


Don't You Dare Forget The Sun

by noodlerdoodler



Series: we didn't choose this life, we're just (kind of) living it [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Canon Temporary Character Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Multi, Number Five | The Boy Deserves Better, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy has PTSD, Number Five | The Boy-centric, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The Hargreeves (Umbrella Academy) Need a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26125189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlerdoodler/pseuds/noodlerdoodler
Summary: Five couldn’t move, standing by and watching complacently, as his younger brother grabbed him roughly by the front of his sweater. It was like he was watching a play he wasn't apart of, yet that was definitely his small body being tossed over the balcony. No doubt, Luther thought that he would just jump out of the way. He'd always jumped out of the way, sometimes without even meaning to, but now visions of a world on fire flashed through his head as his body plummeted towards the ground. Seemingly, he was tumbling through the air in slow motion and absentmindedly, Five wondered if this was his life flashing before his eyes. All he saw was the desolate world he’d left behind weeks ago.When Five hit the ground, it was with a sickening cracking noise.“Oh my god, Luther, what have you done?”
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Allison Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Diego Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Luther Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) & Everyone
Series: we didn't choose this life, we're just (kind of) living it [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957954
Comments: 33
Kudos: 753
Collections: Bad Things Happen





	Don't You Dare Forget The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Bad Things Happen Bingo!
> 
> The prompt: nervous breakdown. 
> 
> Accepting requests for my bingo card, which can be found here: https://noodlerdoodler.tumblr.com/post/627077784361172992/here-is-your-card-for-bad-things-happen-bingo
> 
> TW: passive suicidal ideation, stay safe!!

The last two weeks had been possibly the most harrowing of his life and that was coming from a man who’d grown up in a post-apocalyptic world with only rotting corpses for company.

From arriving in 2019 at last, to failing to stop Vanya from ending the world, to jumping backwards to 1963 and scattering his family across the timeline, to finding out the apocalypse had followed him here, Five wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. There was a constant pulse of fear and dread hiding in his chest and behind his temples, giving him a headache. He hadn't slept, eaten, or even taken a break since he'd arrived in Dallas. He was running on fumes at this point, driven purely by his desire to keep his family alive, and when Luther said he didn’t care-

Something snapped inside of him. As if the threadbare strings that had been holding him together for the last fortnight had been snipped. It was like his soul splintered from his body, barely aware of what he was doing as he and Diego chased his brother down the stairs. Five seemed to be watching himself from above, unable to feel his mouth moving as he snapped at Luther. His anger had faded, he just felt...

... Numb.

Five couldn’t move, standing by and watching complacently, as his younger brother grabbed him roughly by the front of his sweater. It was like he was watching a play he wasn't apart of, yet that was definitely his small body being tossed over the balcony. No doubt, Luther thought that he would just jump out of the way. He'd always jumped out of the way, sometimes without even meaning to, but now visions of a world on fire flashed through his head as his body plummeted towards the ground. Seemingly, he was tumbling through the air in slow motion and absentmindedly, Five wondered if this was his life flashing before his eyes. All he saw was the desolate world he’d left behind weeks ago.

When Five hit the ground, it was with a sickening cracking noise.

“Oh my god, Luther, what have you done?”

Footsteps raced down the stairs, though they seemed to be coming from much further away. It was definitely more than two pairs of feet now and it sent a vivid shot of fear through Five’s veins, suddenly convinced that it must be the Commission catching up with him at last. Maybe they'd kill him- and he realised, no longer floating away but tied to his body, that he might not mind so much. He'd tried and worked and sweated and sacrificed everything to save his family and had failed again and again. It was too draining to do it anymore.

What was the point in trying? There was nothing he could do to save them. They'd all die here in Dallas.

No matter what he did, the apocalypse would always follow him.

As he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, Five tried to process what had just happened. The impact seemed to have jolted him back into his body, though his vision was now blurry and flashing in front of his eyes. Ten siblings loomed over him, (ten? that couldn't be right), moulding into each other and their voices rattling around like a din inside his skull. He couldn’t work out what any of them were saying. So, he ran away like he always did- to the back of his mind- and found himself thinking of the wasteland he’d grown up in.

All because Vanya had powers. _Because Vanya blew up the moon._

“Five! Five, can you hear me?” Somebody was shaking his shoulder like they were trying to wake him from a nightmare.

Hysterical laughter spilled out of Five uncontrollably as he thought about how ridiculous it was.

How ridiculous _everything_ that had happened to him was.

He laughed the entire time that Luther scooped him up in his arms and carried him to the car, laying him across the backseat and instructing someone to drive as slowly as possible. Any attempts to prop Five up in a seat were fruitless because he just keeled over like a rag doll every time. He laughed the entire time that his brother brought him into the emergency room and spoke incomprehensibly to someone sat behind the desk, in an urgent tone. And when Diego swam into his vision, looking more concerned than pissed off, and told him that “this wasn’t fucking funny”, Five howled with laughter so hard that tears leaked from his eyes.

When they stuck him with a sedative, Five giggled as he sunk into darkness.

Because, really, wasn’t it all kind of funny?

* * *

When he finally crawled out of his slumber, blearily forcing his eyes open, all Five could see was white. A plain white wall, devoid of anything to give away where he was, and a comfy white pillow that he seemed to be resting on. Immediately, he wondered if he was dead and felt his muscles relax at the idea. But then, flashes of gruesome scenes played in his mind, and Five rationalised that he definitely wouldn’t end up in a peaceful place like this when he died. It was straight to hell for him.

He could no longer remember what it was he’d found so funny earlier.

Slowly, he rolled his head to look up at the ceiling and couldn’t see anything he recognised there either. Just more boring white. Off-white, really, now that he was thinking about it. Nothing like the bright and deadly white of Vanya's violin. He wondered about pushing himself up on his elbows to get a better look at the room and then realised, in a moment of beautiful clarity, that he really didn’t care where he was. What did it matter?

Regardless of where he was, he’d be dead in a few days. The idea seemed soothing.

“Five?” A familiar gentle voice, which he immediately recognised as Vanya’s, was at his bedside, “Are you awake, Five? You had us all scared for a while there.”

He didn’t bother looking at her, keeping his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

There was the sound of a chair being pushed back and his sister getting to her feet, shuffling over to him. Vanya was looking down at him, her brow creased with worry, and he felt a warm hand gently brush over his cheek. Again, he didn’t react to her touch and wondered idly if it was normal to feel completely numb inside after being thrown over a balcony. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be angry at them for bringing him here… Wherever he was.

Instead of tight anxiety or crippling misery, Five felt vaguely distant. 

She cleared her throat and withdrew her hand, “The doctors said you got really lucky. No permanent damage. You should be able to come home soon.”

Five stared at the ceiling. He felt like his body wasn't his anymore, just a husk. He wasn't there. 

He'd buried somewhere inside his mind to shelter. 

Pausing, Vanya seemed to realise he wasn’t going to say anything and continued, “We’ve been taking turns visiting. Me and Luther that is. The others aren’t even allowed to come inside… I bet you heard the fuss Diego kicked up when they made him leave you with Luther, right?”

He hadn't. All he had heard was laughter. 

It was probably a good thing that Vanya had been here when he’d woken, instead of the others, anyway. She wasn't as overwhelming as the others and knew to give him space. Watching Luther apologise over and over would’ve been exhausting. He wouldn’t have enjoyed having Allison try to pry inside his mind for answers that he didn’t even have himself yet either. At least Vanya was just content to sit and talk quietly to him, without prodding for responses.

"... but it will be nice to go home, right? The visiting hours are so short here." 

He didn’t know why she brought up ‘home’ as if she remembered where that was. She probably meant Elliott's place but that wasn't home. His home was a desolate world blown to hell in a catastrophic event. He should be walking through the remaining rubble of the city until his legs ached, dragging his scarce few supplies behind him, and obsessing over a bloody prosthetic eye his dead brother had been attached to. The only thing that had kept him going all that time had been his own determination, stubbornness, and grit. 

No longer did Five have that drive in him to keep going. Something wet rolled down his cheek.

“Should I get a nurse?” Vanya asked, wiping the tear away for him.

He couldn't even shake his head 'no'. 

Five closed his eyes silently, to indicate that he just wanted to rest, and his sister murmured something before sitting back down on her chair. It wasn't a lie- he was so very tired all of a sudden, as if just being tied to this earth was exhausting. Lying there, he let his mind drift away from him and wondered what it would feel like when the nukes landed in a few days time. Would it be as quick as the last apocalypse? Maybe even quicker? His usual anxiety didn’t surface thinking about the end of the world, a grating sense of acceptance settling in his chest.

He found himself back there, just like he always did when he dreamt. Alone as ever.

* * *

Who knew who much time had passed since he’d been admitted? Five didn’t particularly care. It could've been hours or days but the fact that the world was still standing meant it hadn't been weeks. The impending apocalypse idly traipsed in and out of his thoughts but he usually waved it away. No point worrying about something so wildly out of his control, especially since he couldn't summon the energy to do so. He just rested, his ribs aching. 

Let someone else carry his burden for once. 

He also didn’t care about the fact that his stay at the hospital was up and he was being discharged into Luther’s care- a week ago, he would've made a joke about whether his brother was capable of caring for anyone. He didn't. Fixing his eyes straight ahead, Five didn’t say a word as he was rolled outside in a wheelchair and transferred into the backseat of the car. Someone buckled his seatbelt for him.

“Welcome back, little buddy,” Klaus drawled, in a slightly patronising tone, twisting around in his seat to look at him, “Any bright ideas on how we’re going to stop the apocalypse?”

He was lounging in the front seat like it was a deck chair. 

In truth? No. Five didn’t have any ideas and didn’t care to come up with any, content to lay down and make his peace with god. Or his body would lay down, while his mind floated somewhere far away from it. Disconnected. During his time in the hospital, Five had promptly locked himself away inside his head and didn’t intend to come out any time soon. It wasn’t pleasant there, in his mind, but at least it was predictable and easy. Numb. 

Real life was much too hard. It had worn him down to the bones and he just couldn’t go on anymore, rocking closed like a clam to protect himself. He was grateful that none of his siblings tried to comfort him by hugging him. Their gentle touch would likely be enough to shatter him into pieces all over again and Five didn't think he had enough parts of himself left to afford losing anymore. 

He just wanted to sit quietly.

“Klaus!” Allison chastised from close-by, confirming that she must’ve done his seatbelt.

“What? A guy can’t ask about the end of the world?” Their brother complained, “It might jog his memory. We need him back to… Well, normal is a strong word-”

“He’s catatonic, not an amnesiac!” Allison hissed at him.

They seemed to think he was deaf too. He might as well be, the way he slumped in his seat unresponsively. 

Already tired from the human interaction, Five paid them no attention and just hoped that he could have a nap as soon as they got to wherever they were going. He felt bone-tired and aching for rest in a way he hadn’t felt in years, as if he could easily crawl onto a pile of needles and still be able to nap there. Just existing seemed incredibly draining. It had been like that in the apocalypse, towards the end, as if his body and mind were both physically giving up on him.

Maybe they’d both finally snapped when he hit the floor.

Nearby, (or was it faraway?), Klaus was humming along to a song on the radio and encouraging Luther to turn it up. It was some kitschy pop song. Turning to glance at Five, Luther did not turn it up. His face was probably plastered with guilt, even though it wasn’t really his fault. Any other day, Five would’ve jumped to safety with ease and all of them would've laughed about it later. They both knew that. 

Why hadn't he been able to jump this time? And more importantly, why hadn't he wanted to? He was just pondering this when something collided violently with the windshield and Luther slammed his foot on the breaks so suddenly that Five was nearly flung into the front seat. Thank god for seatbelts.

“Swedes,” Luther muttered, throwing open the car door. 

The Commission were getting smarter, no doubts about that, and the rest of his siblings clambered out of the car with a sense of urgency. Five didn't even bother lifting his head from where it was resting against the window. He just watched. Now engaged in fist-to-fist combat, Luther was using his great size against the man who’d leapt onto their windshield and seemed to have the upper hand. Meanwhile, Klaus had firmly attached himself to the back of the other Swede and was yelling loudly as the man tried to throw him off. Allison was trying to intervene.

Weren’t there three of them before?

Five’s question was answered when the car door he was leaning on was yanked from under him and he was nearly sent sprawling onto the asphalt. Seatbelts weren't nearly appreciated enough, he mused calmly. He didn’t need to turn his head to know that the cold metal pressed against his head was the business end of a gun. Or that the third of the Swedes was holding it there. His gaze remained fixed forward.

In front of him, Luther had been overpowered and was now being pinned to the bonnet of the car. Each time his head was smashed against it, the entire car shook and Five saw fantasy nukes soaring overhead. The metal of the gun kept knocking against his head as if the Swede was waiting for him to do something interesting. 

Someone was yelling. Shifting his gaze slowly, he realised that Allison was yelling at him as she ran towards him. She had abandoned Klaus to wrestle with the Scandinavian so that she could get to Five quickly. Probably wanted him without a bullet through his skull. 

Concentrating on her lips, he was finally able to grasp what his sister was saying, “Five, you need to jump! You can do it, just jump away!”

It used to be instinctive for him. He remembered that when he was an infant, nannies would find him all sorts of dangerous places because he jumped without intending to. Five had never even had to think about it. Later, when they’d all had a nasty flu as kids, Five had glitched through the walls and floors whenever he sneezed. His father had been both parts interested and repulsed by this new habit.

Now, he wasn't sure he could jump if he wanted to. And he didn't want to. 

“Jump, Five!” Allison cried at him, desperately, as the gun cocked.

Unmoving, he looked at the headrest of the driver’s seat with little interest. Go ahead.

_Shoot me._

* * *

Time had turned to slurry in his hands, slipping away whenever he tried to count the minutes, and Five tried to remember why time used to seem so important to him. Why any of it had seemed so desperately important. He had deluded himself into thinking he was important, that he was capable of helping people. He was nothing more than a frail old man trapped in the body of a pathetic little boy. Forget saving the world or even his family. All he wanted to do was sleep the remaining days away, drifting in and out of consciousness.

At first, his siblings were tolerant, kind even. They were probably under hospital instruction not to bother Five too much and just wait for him to come back round on his own- knowing how excellent 1960s medical advice was, Five was just lucky he hadn’t been slammed in the nuthouse. Every few hours, a brother or sister would pop pills in his mouth and try to encourage him to stay upright. Get some fresh air? Did he want anything? 

It was all too much for Five. He was much more content curl up in the bed in Elliott’s spare room and stay there.

Vanya liked to put food on the dresser for him to ignore. His other sister, Allison, who had barely managed to pull him out of the car alive by using her ability, liked to bring a notebook and pen with her. It had helped her when she’d lost her voice apparently. She thought it might help him communicate what he was feeling. Staring straight ahead, Five’s hand just flopped back limply into his lap when she tried to close his fingers around the pen.

Mostly, he laid there and watched movies play on the inside of his eyelids. 

“Hey Five,” One day Klaus broke him out of his drowse by flopping onto the foot of the bed, “I get that you’ve given up on the whole saving-the-world thing and really, I totally get it. Apocalypses are bitches, okay? And I understand if you don’t care about making it through alive. Been there.”

Of course he had. Five had run away from home as a teenager and Klaus had already been poisoning himself then, throwing himself headfirst towards a slow and painful death. It seemed that he'd only gotten worse over the years, if the puckered needle marks on his arms were anything to go by. It had taken Five half a century to get there but now he'd given up too.

Everyone used to say they were nothing alike for siblings. Were they more like brothers now? 

“But think about the other people, okay? It’s not just yourself you’re throwing under the bus here,” He heard Klaus swallow, patting him on the arm, “Everybody will die.”

What did it matter? Five had already seen the corpses of his family splayed out in front of him before and mourned their deaths for forty five years out in the burning wasteland. He'd even made them makeshift graves when their bodies started to smell bad and he couldn't justify holding onto them any longer. At least this time he’d go down with the rest of them, wouldn’t have to hold onto his memories of them anymore. It would hurt less. 

Without him saying any of this, Klaus seemed to realise his argument was a lost cause and sighed. His weight shifted on the bed like he was going to get up.

Instead, Klaus laid down next to him, “If it’s all going to shit anyway, we might as well lock in some quality bro time before the end of the world.”

If Five could talk, he would’ve told his little brother to fuck off. After so many years alone, he wasn’t exactly a fan of physical contact and hadn’t even been cuddly guy to begin with. He always wriggled out of hugs from their mom when he was a kid and was renowned for biting his siblings if they tried to cuddle him as a toddler. He didn't say anything. Instead, he just resigned himself to falling asleep with the weight of Klaus’s arm thrown over him.

When he woke up, there were voices floating above him, just out of reach. Keeping his eyes closed, Five was able to bring the conversation into focus and listen to what they were discussing. He tried to imagine what the looks on their faces must be. Neither Diego or Klaus seemed to notice that he was awake now. Good.

“- eventually. I mean, quacks said the medication should kick in after a few days,” The slightly rougher voice, belonging to Diego, was arguing.

“It’s not just the… mute statue schtick,” Klaus responded, (in his mind, Five filled in for him: _catatonia_ ), “If you look in his eyes, nobody’s home. I saw it all the time in Vietnam,” A sigh from Diego but he continued, “Some kind of nervous breakdown.”

The bed creaked under the weight of three of them as Diego sat down, “You mean the old man finally lost it?"

“Looks like it. Can you really blame him?”

A hand came to rest on Five’s hair, “Like we haven’t all thought about giving up at some point or another. Don’t argue: remember Lila?”

There was a thwack as Diego pushed their brother, “You’re such an asshole.”

But they were both laughing, hushed chuckles so that they didn’t wake him. From what followed, it seemed that they were engaged in a friendly fight, taking it in turns to shove each other. It reminded Five of when they were kids and the weight of the world didn’t rest on his shoulders, when they’d fight playfully over everything. They were still kids really, Five thought as he listened to his siblings bickering, little kids trapped in the bodies of adults. Him in reverse.

They’d be dead in days. Maybe in a matter of hours. And they were laughing. 

“You’re only mad because we were all right about your psycho girlfriend,” Klaus clucks.

He could almost hear Diego’s eye roll, “You’re going to wake Five up.”

Somebody tucked the blanket around him, covering his exposed shoulder back up, and a hand lingered next to him for a minute. Diego (presumably) seemed to have second thoughts about touching him and withdrew his hand, muttering something about leaving him to get some rest. There was a grumble as Klaus heaved himself up and clambered off the bed. A pair of footsteps crept out of the room, the door creaking shut behind them.

There was chattering out in the hallway, somebody snorting with laughter. Despite it all, despite the end coming, they were still so painfully alive. Bright with life.

Five opened his eyes and stared at the crack of mellow light creeping under the door.

* * *

Tiredness and apathy radiating from his chest, Five allowed himself to be coaxed out of bed and steered into the front room. If you could even really call it, the upstairs of the television store, a front room. Vanya was supporting him on the left, her arm wrapped around his waist, and Luther was on the other side, holding him by the shoulders and pushing him forward. His legs seemed to comply with it, though Five was barely aware of what he was doing as he was ushered into the front room and planted on the couch.

He'd only let them peel him off the bed for their sake. It was easier than trying to argue with them, which is pretty hard when you can't speak or move, and Five didn't really care what they did with him. When Luther had thrown him over the balcony, he hadn't even made a noise when his body had hit the ground. 

“There’s the invalid,” Klaus called from across the room, clapping his hands as if he was trying to start a round of applause. He didn’t look too disappointed when nobody else joined in.

Luther clapped him on the back, forgetting his own strength and nearly knocking Five off the couch onto the floor, “Good to have you back with us, buddy.”

“Can he hear us? Understand us?” Standing next to Klaus, leaning against the wall, Diego was peering at him like he was an exhibition in a zoo, “Has anyone actually checked?”

Immediately, there was a round of chastising for Diego being insensitive. But secretly, Five suspected that they were all wondering the same thing. Most of his siblings had a deep-seated need for attention, for people to shower them in affection, and he wasn’t giving them much as he sat there with his eyes fixed straight ahead. He struggled to summon the energy to empathise with them. Life carried on as normal around him.

Could he really just leave them all to die? Thinking about it weighed heavily on his conscious.

Rejoining the world of the living would mean returning to how things had been. He’d been wonderfully numb for the last few days and the idea of giving that up in exchange for the constant throbbing anxiety and creeping sense of dread wasn’t exactly appealing. It would be so easy to just let go. Sink into his subconscious and stay there for good, letting his family care for the vessel of his body while his mind wandered far away from here. Like dreaming while he was awake. It would be completely painless. 

Vanya sat down opposite him, “We thought you might be up for some breakfast today.”

Her words were so gentle and soft, as if she were addressing an invalid. The scent of oatmeal, ( _soft so that he didn’t struggle to swallow it_ , Five realised), and bitter black coffee wafted under his nose, making his stomach grumble involuntarily; he hadn’t gone so many days without eating since the apocalypse and suddenly Five realised that he was starving. Neglecting his body in favour of his mind was beginning to take a toll on him.

Optimistically, his sister produced a steel spoon, took one of his hands, and placed it on his open palm. She tenderly wrapped his fingers around it but as soon as she let go of his hand, it went limp again and the spoon rolled onto the floor. The clatter drew Luther’s attention.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Vanya,” He said nervously.

Glancing over her shoulder at him, it wasn’t clear to Five what look she had given him but it certainly wasn’t malicious. He just looked sad now. Calmly, Vanya rescued the spoon from where it had rolled under the coffee table and returned it to his hand. It slid back onto the floor immediately.

It would be painful for him to be one of them again: a member of the Umbrella Academy.

Everybody knew that belonging to the Academy meant wrestling with the agony buried deep inside you every single day. That was why Klaus melted his brains with whatever he could get his hands on, Diego raced around trying to play the hero, and, no matter where they went, Allison desperately tried to find the love she hadn’t received from her father. They were all trying to cope with how much it hurt in whatever way possible. 

As for Five, it would mean the constant anxiety crawling under his skin and the waves of grief that rolled over him every time he thought about his family. There would be no more peaceful numbing of his emotions, turning his back to them and enjoying blissful apathy. He wouldn't be able to shrug everything off, non-plussed, anymore. Nothing would be easy if he went back to his old life, sacrificing everything to keep his family alive.

He'd have to start caring again and Five knew how hard it would be. 

“V, give it up!” Diego cut through his thoughts.

Klaus hovered, brows furrowed in concern, “We shouldn’t push him too hard, right?”

A spoon was placed on Five’s left hand by Vanya.

Summoning all of his strength, he tried to force his fingers to move. Slowly, ever so slowly, his index finger curled around the handle of the spoon and the rest followed suit, the movements so small that they were almost unnoticeable. If everyone hadn’t already fixed their eyes on him, none of them would've seen.

Crawling back into his own body, Five said a silent goodbye to the dark place in his mind where he'd been hiding. 

Five was able to squeeze the spoon tightly in his fist and lift his hand up. He dunked it in the oatmeal, aiming to scoop some up, and it slipped out of his grip, his hand going limp again. It was unusual for his siblings to be this quiet for this long. He could only hear the quiet inhale and exhale of breath as everybody stared at him, waiting to see what he would do next. Briefly, Five wondered about deliberately giving them all a heart attack by jumping somewhere but decided it would probably take too much of his effort.

He still exhausted, hungry, and aching from his rough fall. For now, at least, he’d need to take it slower than he usually did. Build his energy up so that he’d be ready for a fight when the time came, as it inevitably would. 

Instead, he lifted his gaze from the fixed spot and focus his eyes. They trailed around the room. 

He managed a nod.


End file.
